Howl
by DorianCorbin
Summary: In the dead of the night is where the light shines at its brightest and truths come to surface. And no place is darker, more enshrouded in mystery, than Gravity Falls. When Stan falls ill and can no longer manage the grounds, Dipper returns from graduate school to take over. And he knows all too well the eye that bores into the back of his head in the dead of the night. Billdip, MA
1. Prologue

_( **Author's Note:** Hi, guys! ...Um, yeah, I've been dead for quite a while. I'm a zombie as I'm writing this now actually. Speaking of which, I haven't written in about a year. Bit sad, really, I haven't published a fan fiction for many years. I should be updating this story weekly, depending on reviews. I couldn't really think of a decent title for this work, so I used Florence and the Machine's song, "Howl," as a title, because it is what inspired this story. I also would like to have this finished by Halloween, because it will drag into the Autumn months later on. I tend to lean toward writing more gothic fiction, so I assume that even this fic will take on a more eerie tone. Hope you like spooky Dorito demons. x:_

 _Anyway, do feel free to read this, relax, and grab a bag of aforementioned Doritos to munch on as you do so. All characters belong to Disney and Alex Hirsch._

 _Enjoy! :3)_

* * *

 **Howl**

 _Prologue_

 _It howled within him._

All of the humidity and all of the heat and all of the _hauntingness_ \- It swelled within.

All of the anxiety, anxiousness, anticipation. _Apathy._ It howled within.

And all that could be heard in the narrow and stark white hallway, which did lead into his narrow and stark white office, was the dull and rattling rhythm of his pen against his chiseled mandible.

There were exactly thirty minutes remaining.

Thirty minutes remaining in his office hours, and he inwardly hoped that no straggling student would come trudging in within that time slot and begin a long conversation regarding the college course that he had taken up an internship for teaching. Magic, myths, and rituals, it was called. An anthropology course, even though he was an English major. It would look impressive on his resume, if ever he actually used his degree properly, once he overcame graduate school.

If he did.

Dissertations were such a task to organise and the fact that he _had to,_ that he was _expected to_ write one, made the idea of writing at all that much more unappealing. He'd thought of a thousand and one things in which he could write about, but had of course scrapped them all. He'd hit a block at this point.

And besides that, his ambitions lied elsewhere. Absolutely elsewhere.

He needed the distraction. He needed a holiday. He needed _away._

His heart had skipped a beat a month earlier in April, when he had received an e-mail from his grunkle, stating that he had fallen quite mysteriously ill and was gradually becoming less and less capable of running tours and the shack, and it was assumed by the boy that the man was simply refusing to admit to the struggles of old age creeping up on him. It was inquired of him, at the age of twenty-four, that he take over the "family business."

And he had been like this for a month.

The pen that reiterated its harsh tapping upon his jaw suffered from indentations of molars, and its ink level was dangerously low to the point of leaving horrible black blots upon the towers and skyscrapers of graded student papers that were always upon his desk.

His hazelnut gaze shifted the the bottom of his computer screen, and the pen dropped to meet its miserable end under the desk and on cold, dusty tile.

Dipper didn't even register this. It was time.

* * *

He hadn't been to Gravity Falls in six years. The last summer that he spent there, he'd been eighteen and too distracted with obtaining financial aid and scholarships to enjoy his visit. Not that he'd really wanted to go to university, anyway. Not that he really needed to.

One week in, he'd shed his mediocre attempt of nice button-down shirts and slacks, which he'd only worn to maintain a good visual reputation at the university, and had yet again traded them for faded blue-jean trousers and simple t-shirts. Ah, and his old hat, complete with the old pine tree.

Business had been slow due to an ongoing heat wave. Which was quite lucky, really, as it gave Dipper the necessary time to settle somewhat back into his old routine, and that relaxed him. It also gave him time to reconcile with his grunkle, and to remember how everything used to be every summer as he was growing up.

...Well, nearly everything.

He was dreading, yet simultaneously anticipating some oddity to happen, and he estimated that it wouldn't be too much longer until some rug was pulled out from beneath his feet. After all, Mabel would be joining him in two weeks, and that fact was enough to confirm the aforementioned theory. He only hoped that he wouldn't be alone before all the tables began to turn topsy-turvy again, and make Gravity Falls- well, _Gravity Falls._ The very place which haunted his memories night after night after night.

Currently, he'd taken up house chores and any heavier work outdoors that Stan would not touch with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole. Dipper however could not find himself _wanting_ to complain. In his college years, he'd shied away from socialising, and preferred to keep to himself now more than ever. And in his free time now, when his work for the day was done, he'd go alone and with a journal into the forest and explore as he had in years past. He'd crouch by a tree and watch the deer as they grazed, and look up again at the sky raptors as they glided above him gracefully. He'd start his return home as the fireflies would come out each night, guiding him back with trails of their soft golden flame.

He enjoyed the peace whilst he knew he could. Some part deep within the fathoms of his gut churned more severely with each passing day, something innate. And it followed him into his dreams by the week's end, until one morning he woke with his wallet in his hand, a bit of a one dollar bill peering out at him.

 _Peering._

* * *

 _Leering._

He leered. Every single night for an entire week. He leered.

No one had bothered telling him. Not that they would have the decency to, anyway. Come to think of it, he wouldn't have that decency in their position, either. He never had decency. But, that was part of his charm.

Still, it irked him.

It had been six years and there hadn't even been gossip about it, and if there had, he'd have known. In small communities, gossip always caught like wildfire. But there had been nothing and it had all just happened out of the blue. Because there he'd been, all this time, waiting. His plans had fallen through, caved in, collapsed, over the years. And at this point, he'd forgotten what they'd even been. Existence had been so dull as of late and never had such a small amount of time gone by so tediously, so slowly, in his thousands of years of- was it even life?...

He'd nestled himself one night within a crevice in an old oak, sat to think for the first time in a long time, surrounded by fireflies and he had a thought that he blended in quite nicely with them. Beyond that, it was a great endeavour to think of anything else. No new ideas came to him and he was instead drowned in the memories of all his years. He decided that it wasn't psychologically very healthy even for the likes of him to dwell on the past, and returned his attention to the mass of fireflies, comparing them to stars at a point and manifesting different constellations out of groups of them. He'd named Gemini, Circinus, Dorado, Horologium, the Little Dipper, and-

There was a sharp cry and the sudden snapping of a branch on the forest floor. The voice had been deep, but young. A small herd of mule deer went cantering in panic around the old oak, and out from the brambles stumbled a male human. He was lean and of average build, with a thin neck and small shoulders. His face, though mostly concealed by thick chocolate locks, was pale- save for a ruddy nose that was a bit round and subtly too large, but nicely formed. The same could be said of the boy's jaw, which hung open in a series of pants as a long-fingered hand tossed a familiar hat back onto that mop of brown hair. When he stood up properly and huffed, it was too obvious.

 _Pine Tree._

-and _Big Dipper._

If Bill Cipher had a mouth it would most definitely have spread into a toothy smirk. It well would have fallen quickly, however, because, in fact, he began to _leer_ at the young man with that gaping, slitted pupil of his, and his entire triangular being burnt red, for multiple reasons. Frustration being the main one.

Pine Tree had changed. It had only been six years and he had grown up, and looking into his eyes in the best and most discreet manner that he could, Bill was annoyed. Pine Tree wasn't a sapling anymore. He could tell- because now that glimmer in his eyes that once thought they knew responsibility and reason really _did know_ them now. They were dull. Ruined by tight schedules, all-nighters, the monotonous form of mountainous paperwork, and far too many cups of coffee.

Bill folded his spindly arms across himself and let his fingers on one hand tap rhythmically. This simply had to be fixed, for the sheer sake of his entertainment. It took all of his self-control not to float over and take the absolute piss out of Dipper right then and there. No, now was not the ideal time, not the ideal place. Not the right circumstance. The Eye of Providence retained his golden sheen and relaxed, settling back as a million thoughts calibrated through his mind. He was yet again the hunter, and Dipper had become his prey. And for a week he loomed about in the black of shadows, his mind well made up. His patience thinned in the last three days and he caved and tracked his prey even in the Dreamscape. Silently, subtly, sensibly.

But still he leered in wait.

* * *

 _( A/N: Hello again! I should be uploading the first chapter by the weekend. This prologue has been very vague, but I promise that there is some foreshadowing in there. Reviews are well appreciated. :) )_


	2. Chapter One

**Howl**

 _Chapter 1_

 _It was too early in the morning when a rooster crowed,_ and the harsh sound of said crow that woke Dipper before the dawn broke. Startled, he attempted to sit up on his bed, only to realise that his long, sinewy legs had trapped and tangled him under his duvet. He slid to the floor with a loud crash, and it all happened so slowly that he'd time to register that he was grasping something in his hand rather firmly. He twisted onto his stomach as he met the floor, his gaze then moving to the black and worn leather wallet in that hand. The dull pain of rib-cage hitting hardwood was made numb from the distraction.

The backside of a one dollar bill was the first thing that he saw on that grey Sunday morning. More specifically, the Eye of Providence was the first thing that he saw. He quickly tucked the dollar back inside of his wallet and left it on his night-stand, gathering to his feet and very sloppily pulling on the trousers he'd left on the floor the previous night. And with that, he walked outside, barefoot, his hair tousled and unbrushed, dark bags beneath his eyes, and how he was regretting walking out without at least making some coffee first.

It was the first grey day he'd seen in months. It was the kind of grey that made the very marrow of his bones ache, and that sent a shiver down his spine. The clouds were heavy and gathered as they darkened, filled the air with static and silence. There would be no sunrise or sunset on that day.

He stopped to think that most people would be going to church today. Not him, though. As he'd aged, attended college, learnt things, and after all that he'd seen and been through even before then, Dipper Pines had abandoned the religion which he was brought up on. He didn't regret it, as he believed it left him with a more open mind and less stress and pressure to be a good person. Not that he particularly cared too much about that, either, at this point. He was content merely existing. But he kept these thoughts to himself.

 _A holy day,_ he contemplated, _so grey that it's stopped the very Earth._

Long lashes met his soft cheekbones as he turned his face upward to study the clouds, the first of raindrops falling down in the centre of his oddly conceived birthmark as the wind picked up, swirling his dark locks about and off of the palour plane of this forehead, spitting them all over the damn place.

 _Or maybe not._

Dipper turned to go back indoors, but paused with wide eyes as a dollar bill whipped against the door, the Eye of Providence once again upon him. He couldn't begin to imagine how much he looked like a deer about to get mauled by an eighteen-wheeler. He didn't have time to, instantaneously lurching forward to snatch the bill in his hand. He knew he only had one dollar bill on him at the time, and that was the one that he had shoved in his wallet not very long ago.

He paused and leaned with one arm against the door as the rain fell in a heavy blanket across the plains, quickly catching up to him and soaking him as he marinated in a cesspool of regretful thoughts and memories.

 _...It can't be._

He flung the door open and darted a little too quickly into his room, grabbing his wallet and flipping it open.

 _No dollar._

He groaned.

It was too early for this shit. One week too early. He found himself desperately wishing that Mabel would hurry up and get to Gravity.

He sank.

Down to the floor in the dim of the morning, the rain hitting the ground like bullets, and he blindly felt around, feeling for the dollar regardless of the fact that he knew it wouldn't be there and that the only dollar around would be the one he had just shoved into his pocket.

A crackle of thunder and lightning, a cackle of malice and laughter thereafter.

He stood slowly.

The electricity failed and he tried to steady his breathing. He tried to calm himself. _He knew that laugh._

And it had been staring him in the face since the moment he'd awoken.

The rain calmed and there was a faint glimmer of gold amongst absolute blackness before Dipper. For a moment, it crossed his mind that it was the sun pushing through the clouds, and then he remembered.

There was a low purr. _" Long time, no see, Pine Tree."_

Dipper's lip and nose scrunched back in disgust and he felt a growl forming at the back of his throat. He knew _exactly_ what this was. Or rather, _who._

Two claps.

The electricity returned.

But what stood before him was _far_ from what Dipper had pictured, and though he stood his ground very stubbornly, his deep coffee-coloured eyes flashed about the room, searching. This was not what he had deduced it to be _at all._ Only one deduction was left, and he raised his hackles, waiting for confirmation, his gaze now transfixed upon a slitted eye.

Its owner stood not even five feet in front of Dipper, right in the centre of the room. Tall, too thin, one-eyed, golden skinned. And there was more gold. He sported a golden waistcoat, and golden locks of hair that were pushed to the crown of his head to reveal a strange and ratty face. Somehow that ratty face was more alluring than off-putting. It held charisma in its features. Charm. Superficiality. Candidness. The man leaned on a black cane, a top hat tilted to shade his single, amber eye, the other orbital hidden behind a patch. His sharp-toothed grin was wider than a cat's. And it was _absolutely feral._

" What's the matter, kid? Never seen a demon before?"

And in a blink the golden-clad man had shifted from five feet to five millimetres in front of Dipper's face, leaning forward on the heels of shiny black dress shoes, and just when Dipper had believed that grin could grow no wider, it did.

 _"Boo."_

Dipper snarled and pushed the man away firmly. He could not believe his eyes. _This could not be happening._ Oh, but it could. How stupid of him to even think for a second that anything was impossible. He just wished so longingly that this was, or at least that it was only a nightmare. When he was a kid, it might as well have been. At twenty-four, he had no time or tolerance for a demon's petty nonsense.

" Piss off, Bill," he spat.

" Ah, I do piss everyone off, but you, _you're_ always pissed off, Pine Tree."

" Don't call me that."

 _" Pine Tree~_ Pine Tree, Pine Tree, Pine Tree!" Bill sing-songed far too excitedly, spinning around once and nearly tripping over legs that were far too long for his body. _How annoying._

Dipper didn't even want to begin questioning how Bill had taken this form, although he assumed possession. At the same time, the body in which Bill inhabited did not seem _human enough,_ with its odd skin tone and facial features- But Dipper pushed these thoughts aside and two fingers against his temple instead. He knew that he wouldn't be getting rid of Bill Cipher anytime soon, and he felt the most irritating migraine of his lifetime about to hit him like a freight train. At some point, he'd find out, yes. Right now he didn't want to think about it. He just wanted Bill gone.

He watched him.

Bill moved about animatedly before flashing Dipper a cheeky smirk, a spring in his step as he decided to walk over and flop onto his ass on Dipper's bed, leaning his cane against it and placing his top hat beside himself.

" Yes, just... sit down," Dipper irritably encouraged, _And don't move ever again._

Uneasiness arose when Bill didn't reply, and Dipper didn't like the fact that the demon's lone eye had not left him once and was still boring into him, watching his every move. _Watching his every move._

Dipper inwardly shuddered. He couldn't tell if Bill was trying to unsettle him purposely or if he really had no idea how to socialise. He concluded that the latter made him feel somewhat better about his own poor social skills, and he said, " Bill, you aren't supposed to stare at people for that long. Stop. You're freaking me out, man."

Bill took a while to register what Dipper had told him. He shook his head slightly and put a hand to his jaw thoughtfully.

" You've _changed,_ kid. I don't like it."

Dipper was taken aback and furrowed his brows, feeling defensive and insulted. He needed coffee. He snapped.

" Look, you can't just come barging into peoples' homes-"

 _" Can_. I'm a demon."

" -...That doesn't matter! It also doesn't matter that _you_ don't like that I've changed. Who are you to even tell me that? I'm not your puppet, Bill. I want you to leave. Now."

The demon didn't appear to be affected by Dipper's words and was still observing him, his gaze filled to the brim with curiosity. Dipper didn't like _that._ But Bill's grin dropped and he pressed his thin lips into a firm line, tilting his head like a confused puppy. No, wolf. Definitely a rogue wolf.

" But I did this for _you,"_ he gestured to his human body with a nod, looking almost entirely innocent.

Dipper knew better. He pinched the bridge of his nose between digits and shut his eyes, and he could feel both temples throbbing as the blood rushed to his head. Bill was as infuriating as ever. Maybe even worse than when he had first met him.

The last encounter he'd had with him was at the very beginning of his last summer at Gravity Falls before heading off to college. It wasn't much of a memory, and Dipper had forgotten most of it. Bill had attempted to act civil and sit down for a talk, similar to what was happening now, and Dipper wasn't having any of it. He ended up exorcising Bill away, and didn't see him for the rest of the Summer. He felt he had a certain right to mistreat the triangular demon given past incidents in which Bill had caused.

It felt safe to say that Dipper simply _despised_ Bill.

" Why," Dipper started, " would you take a human form for _me,_ Bill?"

 _" Aha!_ See, you guessed correctly that I took form. I thought you might expect I'd possessed someone. Clever kid."

" That's not answering my question, you stupid triangle."

Bill rubbed an index finger over his bottom lip strangely. " I already _told you_ before, Pine Tree. _I like you."_

Dipper scoffed. Liked him for his soul, liked to toy with him. Liked to think of him as a puppet. " Get out. Just go."

He wasn't surprised when Bill laid himself back on the bed, his arms behind his head to prop it up, one leg bent up toward the ceiling. He looked far too comfortable. This was completely unrealistic. Bill was unrealistic. And yet he existed. Dipper wanted more than anything to snatch that black cane up and beat Bill with it like he was a throw rug.

" You make me sad, Pine Tree," Bill hummed. His eyes shut. " I wanted so desperately to impress you. It's such a difficult task for me to create other forms for myself, and I'm the most powerful being you'll ever meet. Ever. I used up a lot of my energy for this, you know. And I consist entirely of energy."

 _No, I had no idea. You're only always spastic._ Dipper pressed his hands together and brought them below his chin, trying to find a happy medium for himself. Bill 's snarky tone was so close to sending him over the edge, and he pressed himself to have a little more patience.

" Tell me what you want." _Bad choice of words,_ he realised as soon as he'd finished saying them. He should have just walked away, then and there. He failed to. Bill's eye had _captivated him._

There was that noxious grin upon Bill's face again, and it spread like a prairie fire fueled by kerosene. Slowly, he sat up and mocked Dipper's position, leaning forward and refusing to break that spine-chilling eye contact. His mouth parted slightly, a sliver of red tongue glistening in the lamp-light as it flickered, wavered, and Dipper could _just hear_ the words that slipped past Bill's pearly needles of teeth before they even escaped.

" Oh, kid," Bill's head shook slowly, the whisper a howling breath.

 _" You're fucked."_

* * *

 _( **A/N:** "Gravity Falls" and its characters belong to Disney and Alex Hirsch. x: I have nothing to do with this fan-fiction._

 _I hope you liked Bill, I honestly wasn't going to introduce him again until the next chapter or two. And he just kind of... happened. I should update again by the weekend._

 _Remember! Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold, BYEEE!)_


	3. Chapter Two

**Howl**

 _Chapter 2_

 _Three more mornings of windswept and whipping rain followed._ The yowling and howling of the gales like a banshee could be heard echoing off of the roof panels by day and by night. The clouds remained ominously dark, adopting a greenish hue that was comparable to the evil eyes of villainy in olden times.

No visitors had dared step foot near the Mystery Shack, let alone, outside their own doors. Nor did Stanley or Dipper leave the security of lodging, and both had spent most of the past few days of less than exemplary weather stored away in their rooms. Occasionally, Dipper would pay his great uncle a very brief visit to check up on his suspicious health. There had been no physical signs of anything for Dipper to concern himself with as of yet, although he kept in mind that Stan could be quite stoic when he was truly ill or injured. Once, he had attempted to question his symptoms, receiving only a semi-serious snort and dismissive flip of the back of a hand, before Stan had grabbed a biscuit and returned to his room, letting his door shut with a considerable weight.

It was this dismissiveness that offered up a bit of relief to Dipper, and he was thankful for it. He had another problem to worry about. And it wasn't a very inconspicuous one, either.

* * *

The demon sat opposite of Dipper's bed, against the wooden wall, studying the undersides of his glass-like nails with their pointed tips. He'd since shed the dapper garb he'd revealed himself sporting, as Dipper had unamusedly explained to him that if he wanted to stay anywhere near the grounds of the Mystery Shack in _that_ _form_ , he would need to assimilate for the sake of Dipper's pride. That thus meant that he would be required to wear something less... _flambouyant,_ had been the word Dipper'd used, yes. Dipper had reached into the far depths of his clothes drawers and wardrobes to toss some of his old, wrinkled clothes at Bill, and Bill had been puzzled as to why Dipper believed that cheap human apparel worked as a sort of demon repellent. Well, the old scent of sweat and detergent was a little repelling, certainly.

What was more repelling to him was when Dipper had told him that he was giving him to clothes to borrow. Bill's nose had scrunched in disgust, but he accepted the clothes as a gesture of generosity from Dipper. After all, faded and lumpy and odd smelling clothes was a blessing much better than exorcism. Dipper had also given him two blankets and one of his own pillows, letting the demon rest on the floor at night.

Now Bill's eye drooped in exhaustion, a dark bag having formed beneath, purple and bruised. Dipper returned from a shower, briskly walking past Bill and taking a seat on his bed, grabbing his laptop and turning it on, casting a suspicious glance over at the golden orb that he knew was always upon him.

There was a silence and Dipper's gaze returned to the screen of his laptop.

" Mabel called me a moment ago," he started.

He expected a childish remark from Bill, something along the lines of, _"You talk to your sister in the shower?"_ or what not. But the demon remained silent.

" She said she's got pneumonia. It's chronic, she gets it randomly every-" he stopped. Why would Bill care? Why was he trying to make conversation with him? Was that even what he was attempting?

" Anyway, she said she probably won't be here for another two weeks or something," he huffed quietly.

He was more disappointed than he'd been in a very long time. He was really expecting Mabel to be joining him, and now he didn't know when to expect her. He needed her presence and help. The weather would let up at some point, and no one was around to assist in tours, save for Soos, but only sparingly, and considering that Wendy had moved to Portland a few years ago, and the others had dispersed soon after. So he decided that he was only venting to the golden-haired demon on the floor for lack of anyone else to share his disappointment with. Ah, and not to mention that Bill was the main source of that disappointment. And irritation.

Not to mention, anxiety. A week and three days in and Dipper was on the very verge of having a nervous break-down.

He had been having brief naps during the daytime when Bill was too distracted with poking about to bother him. No sleep, however, came to him during the night. And by the looks of it, Bill was suffering from exhaustion even more than Dipper was. Even during an exorcism, Dipper had never seen the demon appear so painstakingly pathetic. The tables, it seemed, had turned a bit, and now it was Dipper who was keeping not one, but two eyes on Bill Cipher.

 _Oh, kid, you're fucked._

He had made sure to keep the demon a secret from Stanley for nearly four days now.

 _So fucked. You'll never be more fucked in your lifetime._

And in those nearly four days, Bill had not showered or eaten, had not had a piss or voided his bowels, brushed his teeth or hair, had not spoken very much at all. Dipper hadn't wanted to make a habit out of speaking with the dream demon, actually holding a conversation with that thing. Or another one, anyway.

 _So, I'll tell you what it is that I want, sweet Pine Tree._

Bill was only torturing himself by staying here. And it was something that Dipper enjoyed watching, the imperious Bill Cipher festering in filth, on his ass, on the unforgivingly worn and moulded floor. That was something. That was _fascinating._

 _I would start by telling you about how a shepherd may lead even the most wayward of his flock, but it might sound a bit disingenuous._

His face, palour and waxen in the illumination of dawn, was a thing of nightmares. Thick black lashes swept up like soot and smoke out a chimney, and the severity of gaunt cheekbones resembled the abrasive blade of a rapier. The pink of his blood that was cast between the blindingly white mist of the morning and golden flesh was all that served as a reminder that Bill was now indeed human. Almost. The jaded dullness of his lone amber orb in the light told Dipper everything that he needed to know.

 _Are you still trying to buy your way into Heaven like the other humans, Pine Tree? Or have you had some sense knocked into you?_

There was a longing for the darkness and for sleep and for food and fluid. How could this limp sack of flesh and bones have ever intimidated Dipper? How could he have been so utterly foolish? No, it was Dipper who was in control now. He was the one pulling the strings. He was the master, and the demon was his puppet.

 _How many times have you been told, Pine Tree- That's not the way that this works._

Abandoned, became the laptop, as Dipper rose from his mattress. In the static of the room, the soft pads of his feet sent sensation vibrating into sound waves. _Thud, thud, thud._ One, two, three steps, and then Bill was there on the floor before him. Dipper bent down and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, forcing him to his own feet.

 _Only the usual way, only the human way: Self-sacrifice, faith, belief..._

His movements were deliberate and determined. Once he had Bill standing, he let go of him, and the eye contact remained locked, and the key to that lock had been tossed away and long forgotten. Neither eye travelled elsewhere, and every other sense had since fled. There was only sight. Only eyes. Intense gazes between two human men.

 _No. No, you know. And there's a difference. You've seen._

One of those human men just so happened to be the devil in disguise. At Dipper's very mercy. The boy tilted his head at the demon as he awaited any movement, any stretch of muscle from him. His fringe fell from his frontal, revealing his birthmark of an all-too familiar asterism. Bill's eye shifted finally, resting upon the wine-stained pattern. _Volgie. Antojos. Wiham._ There was _no_ coincidence involved.

 _A gift, Pine Tree. One that you've squandered on selfish endeavours._

Dipper had slammed him harshly up against the wooden wall. A low growl emitted from the back of his throat and it was guttural. A sharp cackle arose from Bill's. This kid- _Ah, what was he attempting?_ Still, Bill could feel the traces of confidence in the throb of veins through the human hand that was pressed to his left shoulder. Feel the throb of Dipper's heart. He wondered if Dipper could feel his.

 _Everything you've ever done, you've only ever done for yourself._

He probably could feel it, but he would be paying it no mind. He'd probably registered it, questioned it for a millisecond, and Bill hoped that that was the case as Dipper quieted and stepped back and away again.

 _To earn your way back into humanity's- society's- good graces. Because look at you, in college. Working toward a Ph. D.. I mean, wow, kid..._

" _Why me, Bill? ...It's personal, isn't it?"_ Had been the only words that Dipper had spoken to him in the past few days. _Personal._ Nothing had ever been personal before, not to the demon. _This,_ however, he considered to be _very_ personal. Yes. Personal. That felt right on the tip of his tongue, not escaping past his lips.

 _You are going to die young because you have spent twenty-four years questioning and never being content with the answers which you are given and with the knowledge that you possess at any given time, and you are going to go to Hell because of that curse that has befallen you."_

The click of his shoes echoed off of the barren walls in the taciturny, the clouds outside blackening once again, fleetingly as the hubris that exited Dipper's broad sternum. Dark shadows threw themselves against those walls now as Cipher drew close, his neck vertebrae giving a slight series of crackles as it was slowly angled to piece the negative space between the crook of Dipper's neck together. His breath was pyretic, and Dipper's fragile nerves sent a rawness through his blood, bidding his flesh to crawl. Bill's cranium, crowned with gold, elevated so that his eye met up with Dipper's again, and he raised a hand and placed it upon the boy's zygomatic. Let it just brush the skin that enveloped blood and bone. Thin lips parted just a crack. The distance between them and their sanguine counterpart's closed in, and there was a deathly silence to be had.

 _You're fucked, Pine Tree._

It was _personal._ And that was his final answer.

* * *

" Hey, bro-bro!" Mabel sing-songed with some difficulty on the other side of the phone-line.

" Hey, sis," was Dipper's reply, casual, but filled to the very brim with concern and adoration for his subtly older sister.

He'd hated leaving her behind in Piedmont. And now she was sick, her voice thick with congestion as it struggled to flow out. He felt stricken with guilt, even if he couldn't have controlled the state of her health. He wished he was there with her now, relaxing and preparing some chicken noodle soup to tame her illness. Instead, he was here. Doe-eyed in the starlight that finally flooded in on this Monday evening, a jittery demeanour to match. He was sitting on the rooftop "balcony" just above his room and had closed the hatch that led to it, so that he could converse with Mabel without interruption.

He hesitated.

" Hey, Mabel?" he began and twiddles his fingers about in his lap. " Can I talk with you about something? It's a bit of a... of a _secret._ I'd kind of like it to stay that way."

" Well, it's not much of a secret if you feel like talking over the phone about it, Dippy."

" That's not the point," he huffed.

" Listen, I'm serious, Mabel. I don't want anyone knowing about this. Just _you,_ okay? I just... I don't know how much longer I can keep anyone else from knowing about it, anyway."

He could feel his heart racing in his chest. He shut his eyes and tried desperately to block it out.

" Okay, I promise I won't tell _anyone,_ Sir Stress-a-Lot."

Dipper barely heard Mabel's words, and they registered through his brain far more slowly than they typically would have in any other circumstance.

" Dipper? Are you there?" He heard after a few moments.

" _Bill,"_ he stumbled out, his voice hardly audible, " is here. _Bill Cipher._ He's invited himself into the house. He's moved in, Mabel. And he's not leaving."

On the other end of the line, Mabel sat up in her bed and pressed a hand flatly to her mouth, her eyes shutting as a million thoughts and memories careened though her head. She was filled with panic for her brother instantaneously.

" I'll be there tomorrow, Dipper," she stammered and leapt out of bed, regretting it as she stood, a jolt of pain shooting up through her spine and temples. She sank back down onto the mattress, cringing.

" No, Mabel. Don't. You need to recover. I can... I can handle him." Dipper tried to reassure her, and himself. " He's not been too much trouble, but I can't really- I'm not understanding why he's done this. He's _human,_ by the way, Mabel. He claims he made the body by himself and that it's fully his. Mabel, I'm really, _really_ worried that Grunkle Stan will-"

He shuddered and the words propelled from his mouth effortlessly.

" _Mabel, Bill kissed me, that son of a-"_ his voice caught up with his panic and he choked on them.

Mabel held her phone out to stare at the screen, ensuring that it was Dipper whom she was speaking with. A tsunami of emotions had her drowning now, and she laid back down, exhaustion's possessive grip taking hold of her.

" Mabel, listen to me. I don't want you to rush over here for my sake, not in your current condition. Do you understand?"

" ...Yeah, bro-bro. Just promise me that you'll be okay." She swallowed hard. " What did you do, after he kissed you?"

Dipper looked down into his lap, his fingers raw now. He put his hand aside, and stretched his neck to the black-blue sky, encompassed with the gentle lustre of twinkling stars. He grinned as one shot across the horizon, disappearing behind the silhouettes of pines. A calmness engulfed him.

" _...I kissed him back."_


	4. Intermission One, Like Gold

_**Author's Note:** Hey, guys! I had no intention to write this at all, but I figured I'd best whip up a quick little one-shot as an apology for not updating **Howl**_ _this week and am suffering from a writer's block and college stuffs. So here you go, have some... very subtle smut! It's well short, because I'm lazy. Wrote it in about three hours with lot of procrastination and distraction. I own none of the characters or the show, just... having some fun writing. Also, Dipper is 24 for in this, as I kind of want it to be in correlation to what's going to happen later on in Howl. Yup. Mmhm. Enjoy!_

ALSO. This has **NOTHINGGGG** to do with Howl's storyline aside Dipper's age. xD I will probably post this one-shot separately, later on. Expect a new Howl chapter by this Monday, however!

 _( Also, I listened to these two songs whilst writing this, so feel free to listen as you read, as well!_

 _"Gold," by Urielle: watch?v=bSHsk_dViC0_

 _"Unbroken," by Aeralie Brighton and Ivan Torrent: watch?v=Phg_AJHXwT4 )_

* * *

 ** _"Like Gold," a Billdip One-shot_**

 _Gold were the beams of sun that waltzed across the wooden floor as the arid afternoon came to a close._ Silver were the beads of sweat that perspired down the temples of bronze locks and platinum skin, trickling yearningly down to lithium-laced lips from which a tremlous sigh emitted.

His head was thrown back against the wall and his body was pressed tautly to it. And languid were fingers of the man who moved together with him as they tangled within his chocolate tresses, and flaxen, his skin as the noir flannel dress shirt was pushed past the curves of his sinewy shoulders, gently freckled and flushed and fevered. His breath danced about his partner's neck, pyretic and searing.

Dipper, beneath him, writhed like a worm from a bird as a moan caught itself in the back of his throat. It was replaced with a gasp as Bill's stalwart weight abandoned him, and he let his head drop down again to study the golden-haired monstrosity whose poison was all too quickly killing him, taking over his mind and body. The black of fabric was now rolled from tanned forearms and fluttered to the floor like a shadow, and copper eyes scrutinised the ever-so-slight ripple of abdominal husk that the glass of the window threw a bout of iridescent light upon. They watched as the opal splotches of illumination crept up, and into the liquid gold of a lone eye, heated and hungry.

Sharp red tongue swiped across sharp white teeth and Bill extended a long-fingered and satin-gloved hand out toward his lover. Dipper accepted it graciously in his own, and his human body was pulled up against his demon's. That same hand came to clutch him by the chin with a firmness that sent chills down his back, and their eyes like lava melded within each other, lips following suit.

Alone.

It was them, just them, together 'til the end, chasing dawn forever, and nobody- _nothing-_ else existed.

Once more, they divided, and Bill's hand brushed along and away from Dipper's chiseled mandible, his fingers curling and travelling downward and back upward to lift away the bothersome barrier of a cotton shirt. They traced back over the palour plane of Dipper's chest and clavicle, laying his large hand flat and tediously pushing the boy back onto the crisp mattress. He was rewarded with a sultry gaze from his human, rounded shoulders framing a tilted head, doe-like eyes narrowed and fringed with inky lashes.

" What," the brunet began, his voice low and deep and tainted with scoria, " kind of a deal are you looking to make out of this, Cipher? What's your angle?"

The demon's thin lips curled back into a wide and needle-toothed grin, and he gave an abrupt jerk at Dipper's thighs, forcing their bodies closer together. He could feel the tension in his trousers increasing rapidly as Dipper replied with a high-pitched and wanton whimper, and his shattered-glass claws nicked at the flesh that hid away beneath faded blue-jeans.

" No angle," he hummed and sank to crouch on the floor, dragging the zipper of Dipper's jeans down as he went, caught between pearly teeth and phalanges, which pried the button open thereafter. He observed intently as Dipper's rib-cage gave a heave of liberation, and his spine arched harshly upward and into Bill's avaracious touch.

How many sunrises and sunsets had been spent like this, they'd lost track of. They'd end up, each time, in each others' arms with gazes and bodies irrevocably and violently amalgamated and scorching and pining for more. And still, skin-to-skin was never enough.

" Just you," Bill candidly purred as his eye peered into Dipper's, " and me, Pine Tree."

Dipper shuddered as his devil finally bode him bare and granted him certain pleasures, and he propped himself up onto his chalky elbows, ensuring he had a front-row view of that demon's service to him. A smile graced itself upon his face at Bill's words, oddly affectionate and all-too genuine for his demon and his mischievous demeanour. _Romantic,_ even.

Oh, he was going to go to Hell for the love of this beast.

For the wild, gyrating roll of his hips and for the fiendishly fervent songs that, with the devil, he did harmonise, and for the unforeseen gravity that he had fallen into.

As Bill's body rose to blanket his own, like darkness to the stars, and their two bodies inexorably became one, he knew that this deal he had made so unintentionally would never be one that he would regret.

Bill's golden eye met his own again and they smiled as their movements fell into a mirrored, savage, and tantalising rhythm, Dipper's legs tangling themselves around Bill's waist, tugging him achingly closer to himself. The mattress springs responded with enthusiastic squeals and echoes of a psalm of satisfaction wavered and crashed off of the barren walls, Dipper's and Bill's cacophony intermingling undauntingly.

The duet rose to its climax and when it tapered away to the cadence of evanescing exhalation, Bill sank complacently down to rest his chest upon Dipper's, and Dipper touched his hand up to caress his dream demon's cheek. An interval as again, they became lost within each other, the reverberation of synchronised heartbeats shattering the static.

Dipper's voice followed suit.

" When I die," he murmured, lax upon the crumpled sheets, " you'll have my soul, Bill. And then, we can finally... be _one._ Together 'til the end."

Bill tilted his head away from his lover and contemplated those words, nothing for him to decipher as he felt a foreign pang of realisation shoot through his nerves and collect in the pit of his stomach. The elusive nature of human mortality and of words left unsaid threw a frown festering upon the dream demon's face, and he buried it into the crook of Dipper's bruising neck so that the boy wouldn't see it. His lips like velvet brushed about the irritated wine-stains that were strewn about the flesh there, and the desolation of his warm breath cascaded ostensibly.

If only there was an easier way.

If only there was a happy ending that he could foresee, for them.

 _...If only._

" Of course, Pine Tree," he rose his head and feigned the shit-eating grin that creeped across his gaunt face, "We'll always be together, no matter what or when."

He took his human's face in-between both of his hands and he pressed their ruddy noses together and said, " That's what it has to be, you and I. That or nothing. Your death will only be a delay, and I will hold your soul in my clutch, and your memory in my heart, until the very second that you reincarnate."

Dipper obliviously reciprocated his demon's grin and let his heavy lids fall, his heart leaping between his ribs as his ecstasy in love rose there in his chest.

 _" I feel like gold, Bill,"_ were his last words as he drifted into his sea of nocturnal unconsciousness, blind by the veil of its mist as a demon's silver rain began to fall, endlessly.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed! :3 If you have any questions or comments, reviews are very muchly appreciated! _


	5. Chapter Three

_( **A/N:** AH THIS UPDATE IS SO LATE. I'm so sorry, I've been suddenly bombarded with tests and quizzes out the whazoo. D: The next chapter will be a bit longer that this as an I-owe-you sort of... thing, haha. ALSO this is important:_

 _ **I have decided to update this story bi-weekly** ( so one chapter will be posted every two weeks, unless I decide to add more one-shots in) due to my schedule being unpredictable. I will also be extending this story to end near Christmas or New Year's, because I've been thinking on plot quite a bit, and it's going to need a few more chapters than what I intended for it to have. It does not help that my chapters are already quite short, lol. _

_So here you go! Don't be shy and feel free to review! :3 If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them.)_

* * *

 **Howl, Chapter 3**

 _In the midst of twilight, upon the following day, there was a sea of haze that came rolling in, the breath of gods and devils alike._ The Mystery Shack became enshrouded in it as the sun cowered away and the moon's reign triumphed. And still, as they began to appear, the stars twinkled fiercely and pierced through the veil of smog, beads of crystalline dew already dazzling the lucid landscape.

 _" The Ojibwe peoples- respectively- would hang them above the head of their children and loved ones as they slept, as an extension of Mother Spider's love and protection."_

Bill had re-assumed triangle form and was watching Dipper speak- offendedly so _-_ with a small and superciliously disinterested family in the Mystery Shack, presenting a colossal hand-woven dream-catcher which was adorned with soft leather, turquoise beads, and falcon feathers. The sight of it made the dream demon cringe in the way that other demons might if holy water was bestowed upon them, and he burrowed further into Dipper's hat in the corner of the room amongst a pile of cluttered junk, where he had spent the majority of his day- which had not been quite as productive as he had hoped for. There had been very little dialogue between himself and the human since the previous night, and it was rather beginning to irk the Eye of Providence, because he was not even given the satisfaction of Dipper's rejection. No, instead, he was _ignored._

" They filter out bad dreams, and leave only the good ones," Dipper elabourated for a while longer, and eventually turned away to bid farewell to the family, as they were the last before closing time. As he did so, Bill began to feel the ground below him leave and the pressure of it cease, and he clung to the inside of the hat very quickly.

Stanley had plucked it from the floor and casually dawdled over to Dipper, Bill curving his body along the arch of the cap and remaining as still and as silent as possible.

" Come on, Dipper; A grown man doesn't leave his crap on the ground," the elderly man shot the boy an imperturbable grin.

Dipper spun around forthwith to face him, and caught a glimpse of gold from the inside of the hat, nearly breaking into a panicked sweat. _Stan_ had _Bill_ right in his very grasp. This did _not bode well._

 _Obviously._

Bill would have teleported, had his energy not been so immensely expended from creating and shifting in and out of a human form and from Mindscape to reality. Which was only an illusion, of course. Quite the exhausting disillusion, too.

" Grunkle Stan," Dipper barely escaped a stammer, and reached forward to collect the hat. Stanley moved it away from him a bit, and Dipper bit down hard on his tongue, his canines drawing blood.

Bill, meanwhile, was preoccupied with giving a very sardonic eye-roll to the situation which was unfolding before himself and the human boy. He would much rather have preferred to float out and give Stanford Pines a sudden stroke. The man was quite near a century old now, as it was. _He should have been dead- what?- at ninety-two?_

" You really should take better care of things that you care for," Stan chided. Old, _yes._ Definitely old.

Dipper tried to loosen his body movement for the welfare of appearing somewhat more unceremonious, and resorted instead to folding his arms firmly over each other, raising a bushy brown eyebrow at his grunkle. He flipped one of his hands over flatly and outward, gesturing for the hat yet again.

This time, it was granted to him.

He wasted no time in plopping it onto his head, Stan giving a short and amused scoff before brushing past his nephew and out of the Mystery Shack's door. Dipper waited until he was out of sight to release a relieved sigh, removing his hat again and pulling Bill out by a leg.

" That was _way_ too close, Cipher."

He placed the Eye of Providence upon a shelf and walked off to gather the key to lock up for the night, and Bill followed him out and into the house, perching upon his shoulder once they reached the bedroom. Dipper sloppily let his legs give way as he neared the mattress, sinking into it. He leaned against the bed-frame and let loose another sigh.

" We're going to have to tell him eventually."

Bill's singular eye gave a very deliberate blink, which Dipper took to be a wink.

" I'm sixteen steps ahead of you, kid."

The triangular creature floated upward, and there was a subdued flaxen glow as he reconstructed into a man. He took his place beside his brunet companion, leaving a reasonably measurable chasm between them. That chasm ran deep.

His voice as haunting as the very bowels of Hell, he hummed, " Just sit right here, and listen to me..."

* * *

The truck engine gave a fatigued heave as it was shut off.

Dipper unbuckled and leaned back in his seat, his hand still tense upon the keys. He glanced over at his yellow-haired passenger, scrutinising the _very face_ of malevolence- the monster with one eye.

Bill's fists were clenched tightly to whatever surface he could find, red from the pressure that they were enforcing, his fine eyebrows pushed up in concern. There was a subtle tremour that eclipsed his body, and he hadn't seemed to register the fact that the vehicle had stopped moving. Dipper wasn't about to to tell him that it had, either, and proceeded to exit the truck. He shut his door and walked around the back before stopping in front of Bill's, the man frowning at him from the tinted window. Surely he knew how to open a car door.

" _Pine Tree."_

His voice was demanding, and Dipper took it as confirmation that the all-knowing demon was clueless as to how to liberate himself from the captivity of an _automobile._ He gave the glass a few sharp taps against Bill's face, and doing so had Bill so red and unbridled and raging, and pressing his face even harder against the window.

" Say _please,"_ Dipper quipped. He knew that he was pushing his luck with the devil, but this was just _too rich_ to pass up. Bill snarled.

 _" Dipper Pines-"_

" Go on."

A silence.

" _Please,_ get me out of this thing, before I-"

Dipper had been watching as Bill leaned his entire weight against the door, and took the opportunity to swing it open, sauntering off and grinning widely as a shrill yelp and dull thud were sounded moments later.

...Bill wouldn't mind the pain.

* * *

He inspected his reflection in the dressing room's mirror, drinking in his new appearance for the first time.

There had been the bathroom mirror, yes, but this one was full-length and quite a bit cleaner. He was pleased with his work, and now he was twisting about every which way, familiarising himself with every angle of his body. It was lean and sun-kissed, and if he positioned himself closer to the mirror, he could even see pores and split ends from having used Dipper's comb with broken teeth. And on his elbow now was an inflamed little patch of scraped flesh, which he deduced, would have been from falling out of that awful mistake of human invention.

But there was _blood_ now.

He had done very well with this meat-sack costume and-

 _" Bill!"_

He tangled his fingers through his own hair upon the crack of Pine Tree's demanding voice, and reached down to gather the clothes that hung limply on the door before exiting the crammed space, dropping them in an exasperated Dipper's arms.

Dipper was none too surprised that the pile Bill had burdened him with consisted primarily of yellows and blacks and blues, and he gave a bemused shake of his head and led the blond man to the till to pay.

Bill, in the meantime, had occupied himself with studying and prodding about the colourfully-wrapped sweets nearby, impatiently waiting for the employee whom Dipper was interacting with to hurry and scan things so that he could proceed with the plan that he had devised. He was well aware that Dipper was going to be taking his time in returning to the shack, somewhat less than enthusiastic about what would await him as a result of Bill's proposal.

Bill could play that game, too.

Unashamedly, spindly phalanges flashed to and fro from the till and back again, a new bar of candy added with each return.

Dipper's reaction was delayed, and baffled, he finally grabbed ahold of Bill's assaulting carpal as the fifth bar of chocolate was laid upon the counter, glaring daggers at the golden orb with his own copper set.

He was met with an even sharper and more dangerous grin, and he pulled the man forcibly closer to him, prompting him to _stay right there_ until the girl had completed her task of scanning each tag and folding each article of clothing into a bag. He glanced over the sweets that Bill had so annoyingly chosen:

 _Butterfingers,_ all five of them.

The yellow wrappers were what had attracted the demon, and Dipper was not at all surprised. If Bill stayed about until October, there was inevitably going to be a less than evadable predicament with candy corn. He returned three of the bars to their origin, and carried on to buy the other two, thanking the girl as she handed him his bags. He didn't hesitate to walk out of the store, knowing that Bill would be all too prepared to follow after him.

Expectedly, yes, Bill capered after the human until he had beaten him back to the lory, and was tugging at the handles listlessly. Dipper unlocked the doors and placidly placed the shopping in the back, before circling about the back of the trunk to climb into his seat and start the engine.

Then there was a pang of reluctance that surged through him and he swivelled his gaze back upon the golden-haired devil, removing his hands from the steering wheel and furrowing his heavy brows in contemplation.

Was he letting this entire situation go down a bit too casually?

No, no. This was absolutely the correct way to go about it. He was not giving Bill any negative or even positive reactions in regard to his frivolous requests, although upon further investigation, Dipper's assumption of thinking that a reaction was what Bill Cipher had actually wanted was proving to be wrong.

Still, though, the personification of the Eye of Providence it- _him_ self- had not quite defined a deal with him, and that was what was vexing him more than anything. Of course Bill was one to be absurdly cryptic, and seldom ever met an _exact_ point, and perhaps _that_ was the angle in all of this.

Even more strangely, the dream demon had been absent in presenting himself to Dipper when he succumbed to his slumber at night, although having not even been two weeks since they'd reunited after such a long time. There was no precise way of confirming this oddity as a good or bad or neutral thing, and that, to Dipper, was inordinately concerning.

" Your soul."

He snapped out of his daze at the trill of Bill's words and focused his vision upon his face.

 _Volatile. Anticipated. Stereotypical._

" In exchange for your safety. Yours, and your family's."

 _...Ah._

* * *

Stanley Pines had raised the ceramic coffee mug to his wrinkled lips, sipping at the burning and bitter black liquid that tasted of dirt water. His gaze- not unlike his coffee in attributes- shifted to the window before him as he awaited the return of his grand-nephew.

Dipper had woken at a very inconvenient time just before the dawn, announcing, as he strode through the halls haphazardly that he intended to go into town for clothes shopping and that he would return by that afternoon. Before Stanley could even think to inquire anything, the front door had slammed and the sound of a truck engine could be heard dwindling past the horizon. Not too particularly odd, as Dipper- albeit quiet- possessed quite the heavy hand and was still a man of few words, always in a rush regardless of how many times Stanley had told him to slow down a bit. And so, Stanley had just shut his eyes with a mental shake of his head, and had let himself drift back to sleep. It was too early to be bothered with Dipper's bouts of not-so-peculiarity.

Now a throbbing tremour was sending itself coursing through Stanley's corroding vertebrae , which thus cascaded throughout the rest of his nerves and sent spasms possessing his muscles.

The mug and its contents dropped to the wooden floor as the rumble of an engine neared the house.

Stanley was quick to retain control over his body and shot up to his feet, pulling the tattered armchair over his mess whilst simultaneously kicking the broken shards of grey-speckled ceramic under it. He would tend to it later- perhaps. Presently, though, it would be abandoned and he would find himself out on the creaky old porch, watching Dipper step out from the sputtering lory with shopping bags, _and-_

" You can get out now," was heard, and this piqued Stan's interests immensely so.

From the inside of tinted windows, there was no mistaking a glimmer of gold.

Dipper had met Stan halfway and the two made eye-contact, both stares quite reflective of each other- stoic and still somehow suspended in anticipation and suspicion.

" _A friend,"_ Dipper began, and as Stanley stared on toward the vehicle, a pair of spindly legs clad in black slacks slid to the dusty dirt below, _" from college."_

The passenger's door shut with a misplaced force and upon those two black tendrils skulked a slender stranger, donning a halo for hair and pyrite for a stare and honey-marble for his hide. It was atop the threads of an illusory web that this gentleman did skulk and he settled himself adjacent to Dipper.

" He's looking for work this Summer, if you'll allow him here,"

Stan's florid nose, hooked and hanging, gave a subtle scrunch and his lips parted to say no to the idea of this marauder in and of itself. Alas, they were short on employees and it would mean a number of consequences as the season dragged on to be lacking in them. Even the addition of Mabel and Stanford in the weeks to come wouldn't be near enough.

He snorted.

" He's not interested in a salary, only in the experience,"

Looking the man over, it didn't appear as if he needed the money. A rich boy, probably, with wealthy parents. Foreign, as well, by the very looks of him, although Stanley could not lay a finger on which ethnicity he hailed from. _Hebrew? Egyptian? Italian? Romanian?_ It was something much more archaic and recherché .

" And he'll be sharing my room with me, so I'll set up the futon for him,"

Accented with glass-sherd talons, an angular appendage was offered unto Stan along with a grin laced with nitroglycerin. The dandy's sacrifices were countered with a scoff and Stan stubbornly folded his arms over each other, some sliver of him yearning to intimidate the boy. A means of defense, admittedly, because perceptively- maybe he was a little inclined to paranoia- something amongst the gears and cogs like rotten rust _did not bode well_ with this mechanical state of affairs.

" Allow me to introduce myself, Mister Pines" his first saccharine words like honey dripped from lips like rose petals.

" _My name is..."_

* * *

 _( **A/N:** *cue Aqua Teen Hunger Force theme song* ...Just kidding. x: I am still deciding on an alternative name for Bill. If you have any ideas, I'm totally open to suggestions! _

_**Next update will be around October the 23-25** and I will also attempt to post a one-shot for **Halloween** before I leave my dorm for that weekend. _

_Again, reviews and questions are very welcome! Thanks for reading. :3_

 _-Dorian Corbin )_


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